Deflated soul Lord take hold…fill me always to full capacity

You stood there and with each word I could feel my heart deflate. It was as your lips were moving, but I muffled the noise it was too late.  

Checking for my pulse, as my anxiety was unmanageable. I felt with the words you spoke I was going to vomit.  

You knew these admissions would be our demise. Chastened by stories I could not be ear to. 

My heart was spilled open with a huge gaping hole. You with blood stained hands. A man whom got sucked into the lusts of the world. 

Did a twirl or two with the reaper wishing death would have taken me right then. Nope, still alive. Why?!? My tears were like that of a broken water fountain. 

Blood and tears go great with beer. They compliment one another. 

Flattened beyond repair with alcohol as my care. You I could not bare the stare. So then is when I decided to trade my stains for just another pain in that of a bottom less bottle. 

Drowing in my sorrows always wishing there would be no tomorrow. More, I need more. I am not numb enough. I am still crying, and the lies are eating at my flesh. 

Death was all I wished, my heart had been deflated. My vision blinded by my own transgressions. God was a blur. My words slurred, and truth scewed. I was now to just like you, frolicking with the devil. 

We were both writing our writ for our escape from our vows. Our marriage was trampled on by our own selfish hearts. Larkins best feast, on the ones who turn their back on their Lord. Darkness feeds on the words of our own accord. There was no Lord in any of what we did. We were rolling dice with schools of ghouls.  

Yahtzee he won. Our marriage sent straight to the grave, buried with 1000’s upon 1000’s of others. A statical tragedy. A check mark by our last name. In that of a game we chose to play. We were just like the rest. Nothing to set us a part. Buried alive, our hearts barely beating. 

Barely breathing had become our purpose. We had become accustomed to living underneath the surface. We could not point fingers. Death lingered, and it was us that deflated the love that once lived in and though us. All from that of living in the flesh. 

We took it all for granted, nothing scared or precious. Punctured by our own making. 

God held his head low, and cried for our demise. Calling us back into him. He had the pump, to inflate our soul. It was ours if we wanted. The cross was there for the taking. All we were to do was look up, and proclaim father forgive me. I need you!! 

Father I need you, I said after all was said and done. I hung up my old skin, for that of new. I was ratty, and smelled fragrant with brew. In an instant I was tranformed from vagavond to beauty. My home was forever with that of my Lord. As my heart now was of one accord. I was pumped back up with breath brand new. I am now set apart from that of world. 

My world is now thy will be done!! Lord if it is not your will I do not want it. Keep me humble, and may grace pour from me. I lost so much, by my soul I gained! In Christ victory I claim.

 Word Prompt: Puncture

 

 

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Published by

Lisa Ralph, Cries from an unkempt garden

I write to tell my story of how I overcame self affliction, and great despair in this life. For I write to share the death to self that took place. That I may Glorify God in all I do. May my writings be a refelction of freedom, for I am no longer in captivity of self. May they be warm, and inviting. For I write because God has given me words that drip from my mouth to be seen.

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